


Morning Dew

by LadyZeppelin1111 (QueenBoudica1770)



Series: Out in the Morning Dew [1]
Category: Led Zeppelin, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, The Rolling Stones
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dystopia, F/M, Future Fic, Genderbending, Genderbent Mick Jagger, Genderbent robert plant, Heterosexual Sex, Homosexuality, Implied Slash, Implied/Referenced Character Death, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Nuclear Weapons, Post-Apocalypse, Rhoda Plant, Science Fiction, Songfic, jimbert - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 05:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30033426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudica1770/pseuds/LadyZeppelin1111
Summary: Songfic based on Morning Dew, written by Bonnie Dobson and had been covered by many artists, including Robert Plant. Checkthis video. The song is about the last man and last woman on earth talking to each other after the world is devastated by atomic weapons. She wrote it after seeing the dystopic movie On the Beach.I'm not sure how to describe this weird ass idea but it's an Alternate Universe post-apocalyptic futuristic fairytale Jimbert fan fic.Some classic rock/Led Zeppelin characters have been genderbent. It draws inspiration from the Fallout games, Brave New World, Tolkien, HG Wells, and probably a lot more crap in my head lol.
Relationships: Jeff Beck/Jimmy Page, Jimmy Page/Robert Plant, John Bonham/Robert Plant
Series: Out in the Morning Dew [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2220750
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	Morning Dew

**Author's Note:**

> Rhoda (genderbent Robert Plant) lives in the fallout shelter of Sector 4 but dreams of leaving it for the outside world, which was scorched hundreds of years before in a nuclear war.
> 
> There are troubles brewing inside, though, that may be worse than the possible dangers of the Surface.

*Walk me out in the morning dew, my honey 

Walk me out in the morning dew

Oh I can't walk you out in the morning dew, my love 

No I can't walk you out in the morning dew at all*

It had been so long, no one was sure exactly how long at this point. The Nuclear Tide had rained down long ago and scorched the Earth. Many died immediately, and many more perished in the ensuing radiation sickness. There were bunkers people fled to, but even with a decimated population it still wasn't enough to save all who were left. The ones who were lucky to reach the cells of safety hunkered down and waited. Hoping that the fallout would decrease and they could emerge to start anew.

Generations passed. The satellites that supported global communication fell to earth, so old-fashioned radio was used to at least communicate with the different enclaves. After time passed, the scattered shelters went silent, leaving the shelter at Sector 4, that hundreds of years prior was called Great Britain, alone.

"Walk me out in the morning dew, my love," Rhoda sang. "Walk me out in the morning dew."

It was an old, old song that children learned at an early age. It warned of the dangers of Outside. You would die, either of starvation, or the unknown mutated creatures that had survived the radiation, or the fallout.

Like London Bridge is Falling Down.

My fair lady.

"Sometimes you sound almost serious," Jimmy remarked. "But I would walk you out in the morning dew, if it existed."

He was the Architect, so he knew things many did not. Maybe not as much as John, the Engineer, but still. He was kind, though mysterious and snarky at times.

Rhoda was the Farmer, the Mistress of Growing Things. She was married to the Lieutenant, Bonham.

Yet her heart turned more and more to the Architect and his rare yet dazzling smiles.

Though they had tried to keep the Knowledge alive, it appeared to Rhoda that people seemed to be smarter in the Old Days, the before the Nukes days. They knew a lot of things, and made a lot of things, and were Free.

Free to go wherever they wanted in a clean, healthy land. Free to do whatever they wanted and not have to always ration themselves.

The bunker's source of power was winding down, the air not cycling, and radiation levels were slowly increasing again inside, where before it had been decreasing. Nobody could explain why. Jimmy rerouted the air ducts and John used decaying tools to attempt repairs on the faltering machinery.

They had forgotten that the generators ran on the same type of energy that had rendered the surface unlivable, nuclear power. No one made the connection.

"We should. Go out. This place will soon be a coffin," the blonde Farmer urged. She was tall, long-legged, rugged. Blue eyes, dimples. Beautiful.

Jimmy wanted her. But.

"We would die, you know," he reasoned. "And in here, Bonham would have both our heads. He commands now. The Director is dead, with no one to replace him."

Rhoda sighed, turned away from the black-haired Architect. Slender, soft spoken, green-eyed. Always reasonable.

*thought I heard a young man moan, Lord.

I heard a young man moaning, today.

You didn't hear a young man moan

No, you didn't hear a young man moan*

The group that lived in the deep had begun preying on anyone alone who strayed too far. It didn't used to be that way; everyone had always gotten on together in Sector 4. But that was before the troubles with everything functioning started. 

The end of the world, by the way, didn't come with a bang or a boom. No. It came with a whimper. It came slowly, steadily, inevitably. Like the little engine that could. The slow, downward drift to doom. The atomic explosions were a bang, for sure, but they were just the herald for the long slip to Death. The bunkers had staved it off, but it was now reasserting itself. 

Micki and Keith were the ringleaders of the Deep Ones, ambushing folk in the dark. Taking whatever they have on them, stealing clearance cards, possibly eating them for all the others knew. Roger and Steve had joined the ruthless woman Micki and her man, and Terry had disappeared. 

Bonham had heard his cries and took a couple of the soldiers he had left to look for him, but the Voice was now gone. He was a gentle, attractive lad, and Rhoda and Jimmy had liked him, but now the Voice of the Gods would sing no more.

Rhoda imagined she could hear him screaming for help at times.

John and Jimmy came by Rhoda's greenhouse one day. "Are the plants not growing like they're supposed to?" The Engineer asked.

Rhoda Plant answered no, they were not. The soil was exhausted despite all she tried to do.

The Lieutenant drank more and more of the hooch the Brewer, Jeff, made for the denizens of the shelter, and instead of his jovial self, the Farmer now dealt with a drunken, destructive Bonham.

*thought I heard a baby crying, mama.

Thought I heard a babe cry, today 

No I didn't hear a baby crying, darling

I won't hear my baby cry, anymore* 

Rhoda sometimes watched the Brewmaster and the Architect, ever curious, and had observed, hidden, their heated couplings when they were alone. Both were thin, dark-haired, but she found Jimmy the more beautiful. It made her belly do flipflops and pulled at her pleasure center to see them get off. She would steal away to finish herself off, or fuck a surprised but all too willing Bonham. She wondered at how Jimmy could look at her with such naked need when he already had someone--but then, she caught herself staring after Jimmy whenever he left her presence, and she was taken. It was no matter to him that the Farmer had borne the Lieutenant a son that inexplicably only survived three days. She had named him Chris.

There had been few children born for many years, the youngest ones now nearing adolescence, so this child was a blessing. Would he have been a Farmer like his mother? A Soldier like his father? A Healer, even, like wise Georgina, who still cried for the young Voice, younger than her but her lover, who would sing no more? None of these would now come to be.

Rhoda would have chosen to be a Singer, if she had lived in the Old Days, or the early days of the Hiding. She sang as she dug in her tended gardens, sang as she sewed seed, sang as she watered the shoots and trees, sang as she harvested. Terry had helped her pick the fruits and vegetables, and Jimmy at times, when he wasn't helping John with the machines. Terry liked an excuse to sing with someone; Jimmy liked an excuse to stare at Rhoda's luscious ass through her worn jumpsuit.

She enjoyed watching cherubic Terry and his big, round hazel eyes, his mouth stained with the berries he'd sneaked and eaten when she wasn't looking. She didn't love him or want him that way, though. He was like a little brother to her, mostly. But now it didn't matter.

She loved Jimmy. And he loved her.

The Lieutenant came to the chamber he shared with Rhoda one night with his brow furrowed. He'd let his thick brown hair grow out and he was growing a beard. What did it matter anymore? There was no Council to speak of, no Director Lennon to chide him. He clasped his wife in the dark to find her responsive but hardly enthusiastic. She could smell the Brewer's hooch, this time some form of usqueba, on his breath, and she didn't like it, or him, at that moment. She has always been fond of him, had been raised with him as a child, but tonight he raised his hand to her at her lack of enthusiasm. She found herself in the floor beside her side of the bed, fingers of her calloused labourer's hand shaking, skimming over her swelling cheek.

She flicked on the minilamp on her night table, which gave off its watery light, its uncertain light. "How dare you strike me, John Bonham!" exploded the blonde's powerful voice.

The Engineer asked the Lieutenant the next morning about his black eye. He admitted the Farmer had arms like the pistons John-Paul Engineer maintained. He had seen the Earthmother's bruised cheek and guessed the situation, and Bonham scowled again at John's laughter.

The Harvest Festival happened the next week, the couple dozen or so denizens left that hadn't been taken by the Rad-Sickness that had somehow invaded Sector 4 Shelter or the Deep Ones (gods damn Miss Micki and Keef, amen) ecstatic to be able to celebrate something. Jeff went round with containers of vino and usqueba and the Engineer, the Lieutenant, the Architect and and the Farmer played music until others took their turn to play. 

Rhoda stood watching as folks danced and ate and enjoyed themselves. A familiar figure placed himself beside her. Slender fingers of a delicate hand threaded themselves through her digits, their hands now clasped together. "What about your husband?" asked the blonde.

"He's busy," was Jimmy's dry answer. "And he's not you."

"I know. You don't--you're not ahh...into women."

"You think that matters, do you?"

She snorted at that.

"Rhoda."

She turned to look at him at last. "James Builder." The affection and need in their glance was palpable.

"We may not have many more chances, love."

"I know. We should go. Just leave. Do you all not see? The radiation is coming from in here, not from outside. I don't care what John-Paul's broken instruments say. Come with me."

*take me out in the morning dew, my darling. 

Take me out in the morning dew, my love

I can't take you out in the morning dew, my love.

I can't take you out in the morning dew, at all*

"We don't know what's out there. The last explorers left a generation ago and were never heard from again. There's been nothing on the radios for even longer."

"We know what's in here, and it's getting worse and worse."

"Then...then we'll prepare," conceded Jimmy. "But I need you now, baby. Now."

The eerie bluish glow of the night lamp in Jimmy's chamber cast an odd hue to his round face as he bent over her nude form stretched out before him. Their bodies joined together while the music played and the people laughed, and it was joyous, not a chore or a duty for Rhoda. 

She fell asleep with his wiry arms around her, having cried about losing Chris again. It felt good to be consoled. To not be told she was overreacting or take your Zuum and everything will look better in the morning. Jimmy knew not what to say, so he held her and hummed to her low in his throat. The sweat from their lovemaking cooled on their bodies as Rhoda calmed and drifted off to slumber.

*Where have all the people gone my honey

Where have all the people gone today

There's no need for you to be worrying about all those people

You never see those people anyway*

One of the soldiers found a note while walking perimeter, and Rhoda found Bonham poring over it and mumbling. "No matter what I do, we can't get rid of 'em. And now this." He handed it to his wife.

"Dear Mister Soldier Boy,

We have your preshus Healer, dear ol Georgina. If you want her alive with all her finggers, then come down to the no. 3 Port, before the end of this day cycle. Bring your security keys.

Much love and a big ol Fuck Off,

Keef.  
Second to Micki Jagger, Lady of Misrule

Ps. Ignore us and we'll do something reelly nassty to the pretty boy Terry. He's still with us. For now."

"What're you going to do?" wondered Rhoda.

"We can't very well function without our doctor, can we? And if Terry is still alive, I can't leave him down there with those subhuman bastards."

Not for the first time, the Farmer begged the Lieutenant to just pack up what they could and leave, take their chances Outside. And not for the first time, Bonham refused her. Everyone knew it was suicide out there, the Surface may not ever be habitable again.

Bonham took five of his warriors, down to the Port close to the Deeps, to barter for the lives of his citizens. He took four others that remained hidden in an attempt to surprise and overwhelm the Deep Ones.

None of them returned. Not that morning, or the day after. The fourteen people remaining were left now with no leader, no Healer, no Voice and no idea what to do.

Despite being afraid, Jimmy agreed they should venture forth, and get out of this closing death trap. Rhoda packed up seeds and tools and food, and went to Jimmy's chamber to check how it was coming to find him arguing with Jeff.

"That's insane!" the brewer yelled. "Leave the only place we've ever known? For what? Because that loony blonde slag said so?"

"Because we'll all die if we stay here," Rhoda interrupted. The two men turned to her.

"Fuck you, stay away from us!" snapped Jeff.

"Fuck you, Jeff. Stay here and end up a slave of Micki if you want," Jimmy shouted, and grabbed some of his tools and stuffed them in a bag.

He pushed Jimmy, made him stumble. "It's death out there!"

Rhoda was on him in an instant, a well-delivered uppercut sent the Brewmaster against the wall. "Death is here in this broken down cage. Stay here and rot if you want. We choose Life."

Suddenly, alarms went off, a sound that hadn't been heard since ages prior when the first bombs fell. Jimmy and Rhoda fled to the Meeting Hall, to find John talking over the alarm and folk yelling in puzzlement and fear. He explained that it meant there had been a breach in the upper living areas.

Which meant unauthorised persons had breached their last bastion of safety.

The Engineer, Pete, one of the last of the Soldiers, and Alice the Keeper of the Animals all elected to go with the Farmer and the Architect.

The others, too terrified of the Surface and unwilling to stay within the decaying shelter of Sector 4 under the thumb of the mutated Deep Ones, chose to ingest too much Zuum and never wake up.

Jimmy checked the screen in the Hall and found the intruders were on the move. His fingers danced over the touchscreen, his commands shutting the doors that led the Deep Ones closer. Moments later, one opened.

"Damnitall, they have clearance cards," John growled. "We have to move."

Alice and Pete grabbed weapons and more supplies while the Engineer grabbed the old radiation suits from storage; he felt it better safe than sorry, even though depending on fallout levels they would only provide protection for a few days.

Jimmy and Rhoda headed toward the Gate to start the sequence that would send the Lift up to the Surface. The Engineer was the only one for time out of mind that had been entrusted with the codes, but he had downloaded it to Jimmy's PDA.

In the corridor before they reached the Gateroom they were stopped by the gang. 

Micki, petite, slender waif of a woman, was there with her dozen or so cohorts. Living in the near-dark in close proximity to the engines had changed her, changed all of them. Bright blue eyes burned with cold, brutal light. Her face was drawn, pinched, made even more evident when she smiled. Wide mouth, full lips, teeth chipped on eating stale food scavenged and Gods only knew what else. Body sharpened until she looked like a parody of a human.

Keith was hardly any better, lesions on his skin now rendering him like some horrible leper, if anyone there even knew what leprosy was.

"In a hurry, are we?" the Lady snorted. Members of the gang brought out the lifeless bodies of the Soldier and the Keeper, and it didn't look like it was an easy passing. They were pitched unceremoniously into the floor.

"Where do ya think you're going?" Keith added. "Up top? Bloody suicide!"

"Maybe we should go with 'em. See what's out there that's so valuable," Micki said, and her minions pushed Jimmy and Rhoda into the Gateroom.

"They can't be allowed to go," Jimmy hissed to the blonde. "They'd destroy anything good that may be left up there."

"That terminal there," the gang leader went on. "You could send us Aboveground, or say, give me all the command codes, that way I can share all the resources for my starving mates here. I can be the new Director, eh?"

"I don't have the passwords," the Architect said to that.

"Right, right. Well then. Boys, bring in the other prize," she spoke into her wrist communicator.

Steve and Terry brought in a sputtering and obviously roughed-up Engineer. They pushed him forward, where he tottered and finally got his footing. "Hello Micki," John seethed.

"John-Paul," she sneered. She ran a claw like hand across his face before playfully slapping it. "Give me the codes so we can stop living like animals, waiting for the scraps from your table, without the comforts you have."

"No."

"No? Ok then," Micki grinned, the jagged smile nearly splitting her thin face in two. "Stevie dear, won't you run your blade through Rhoda. Make it Jim-boy, too. Off them both."

The tawny-haired young man, his skin only beginning to get the pallor of the Deep Ones, approached the pair.

"Stop," the Engineer spoke. "Give me a moment." He inputted several sequences into the terminal. After a moment the alarms ceased, then a rumbling began.

Echoes.

Vibrations of movement, a shuddering as the Shaft was activated.

"Filthy tricks!" cried Keith, and stabbed John in the side with his knife. 

"Kill them! Kill them all!" screamed Micki.

Doors shut, blocking half of the gang off from the Gateroom, leaving them in the corridor, and their stolen keycards wouldn't activate them again. Then there was someone yelling and movement and people were fighting. Rhoda recognized that voice.

It was Bonham, firing his laser gun into the Deep Ones with unerring precision. He was ragged, bleeding, and looked as if he'd been hiding in the unused passageways for days, which he had.

"John! Oh, John!" gasped Rhoda, then was drawn into a struggle with a ratty-looking girl with rotten teeth, at last swinging her full pack at the woman's head. Jimmy stabbed Steve with his own knife, the young hooligan having been distracted and Jimmy being deceptively swift.

With a clatter, the platform reached the Gateroom and the doors creaked open. Jimmy reached John-Paul first, found him barely standing. "I fixed it so that when you go up, it won't work again. These vile creatures will be trapped here," the Engineer gasped out. "I'm in no shape to brave the unknown. You must go without me."

"Goddess bless you, John-Paul," Rhoda said when she reached them. She called to her husband as they made their way to the Lift.

"Go! Both of you, go on!" Bonham bellowed as he was swarmed by the remaining Deep Ones. 

The pair stepped into the Lift, and Rhoda swiped her card. The doors began to close, and when it did it stopped the piercing screams of Micki. 

"No! No, you fat fucking shits! You'll die out there, you stupid cunts! No!"

With a jolt, the Lift began its ascent up the Shaft. Up, and up, and up it laboured, pulling them closer to the Surface.

*Oh, now there's no more morning dew

Oh, now there's no more morning dew

What they've been saying all these years was true

Now there's no more morning dew*

They twined their hands together, stood side by side, waiting for the platform to reach its destination.

"I'm afraid," murmured Jimmy. "What if the fallout kills us? We weren't able to put the suits on."

"At least we tried," Rhoda pointed out. "And we'll be together."

At last the Lift stopped, and the doors slid open. They stepped into a high-ceilinged chamber, then slowly made their way along the cobweb-covered railings and walkway, following the exit signs. They stopped in front of the last door and looked at one another for a minute.

The latch only required the button to be pressed. "Do it," breathed Jimmy 

Rhoda pressed the button, and gears engaged, pistons moved for the first time in centuries, and the door slid open. The pair walked through the opening.

Dawn had just broken, the sun was coming up. Green expanse greeted their widened eyes and hand in hand, they walked out into this strange world. Neither had seen the light of the Sun with their own eyes or beheld a sunrise.

It was the most sublime thing either had ever seen. "It's so beautiful," breathed the Farmer.

"It is," the Architect agreed.

In the distance, they spotted trees. Birds flew overhead, and they could see a herd of unfamiliar animals grazing. They looked kind of like the deer in the educational holotapes they watched as children, but kind of not. They appeared healthy, though, not like the Deep Ones at all.

If there were animals and plants thriving, then it was safe. There was no more fallout.

Rhoda and Jimmy broke into relieved laughter. "What do we do now?" the blonde asked.

"Whatever we want, love. Whatever we want," the black-haired man replied. He kissed her, then.

*Walk me out in the morning dew, my honey 

Walk me out in the morning dew, today

Yes, I'll walk you out in the morning dew

What they said all those years wasn't true

I'll walk you out in the morning dew, today*

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. You know the routine, kudos, hugs, cheese sammiches and comments always welcome.
> 
> I was quite moved by the song Morning Dew, and it led me to create a whole post apocalypse future where humanity, old and wicked and greedy, nearly destroyed itself, and in the ensuing ages to come regress back into forgetfulness and innocence, and risks making old mistakes all over again. And amid this backdrop we find this alternate Jimbert, their love timeless and touching. Maybe someone else could do it better if they wanna try, or tell other stories in this world.
> 
> Just credit me for pulling this outta my ass. Heh.
> 
> Hell I ain't even sure how this crazy thing will be received. I love all you guys though!


End file.
